


Derivative Initiative

by Realmen



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Realmen/pseuds/Realmen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When unrevealed, but urgent circumstances force the team into an extended stay at Stark... make that *Avengers* Tower, our heroes are instructed to kick training into full gear.  Unfortunately for Director Fury, he had no idea just how much mischief two new, college aged, female recruits could stir up when quarantined in the New York residence. This interesting blend of Stark-style obscenity, Cap-style bashfulness, and frat-style shenanigans would make for a pretty laid back rom-com...  if it weren't for the mysterious, eminent threat on the horizon.  Will the team be able to pull themselves together before this new evil arrives?  Or will the leaders' infatuation with their new room mates prove to be too heavy of a distraction?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

Sturdily tugging at the verges of his latest invention, the world’s only Tony Stark tested the variables and restrictions of the elasticity. He jerked the strategically created and tedious to deal with design left to right, all while making sure each pull bounced back into its original form with no stretches or frays in its configuration. The structure was nearly flawless—sharp, durable, temperature substantial, with a dash of his own style, seeing how he wouldn’t want it any other way—there was just one more thing that it needed. Pressing a quick design on a holographic screen after situating his innovation onto a flattened plain, the high-tech sewing machine promptly embroidered ‘ _Stark Industries_ ’ onto it his creation. Perfect.

“Brucey,” Tony called out to him, impeccably pulling the invention from the device at its last click finished its work and concealing it behind his back. “I did it.”

Without elevating his head, Bruce’s eyes raised to peak at the man. “Do I really want to know?” he questioned, messing with a pen from between his fingers as he stopped writing his personal notes towards his own studies.

A lightly playful smirk came to his face, Stark revealing the royal-coloured material from behind his back and bestowing it upon his friend. “May I present to you, the Obediently Tractable and Hasty Enlargement -Resilient pants.” Moving out from behind the counter, Tony modeled the creation over his own in a joking manner. “Or, the O.T.H.E.R. pants.” The self-amusing man _did_ devote a large amount of time on seeking to develop the perfect pants for Bruce’s condition, he supposed he deserved the right to poke a little fun—granted, even if he had settled a shorter period on it, he would have done so anyways.

 After balling the trousers up and tossing it towards the man’s face—he promptly catching them—the curly-haired man rolled his eyes, faintly entertained. “Ha, ha.” he dryly replied, not certain what to think about the gift, if that’s what he could deem it. Scanning over the implication of the industry’s labeled name, he exhaled a short laugh. “I see the company is investing it’s time wisely.” A genuine grin actually pulled at the corners of his lips without real intention the deeper he thought about it, averting his sight back to his notes as he scribbled some sort of annotation. “Thanks.” he thinly acknowledged.

As he sauntered across the room to fetch a snack he left in the corner, Tony smiled to himself, a bit gratified and satisfied with his gift. Before he could punctually respond, he perceived footsteps nearing the room, pausing in mid-step as a set of fingertips hooked around the doorframe.

"Dr. Banner," Rhodes nodded in acknowledgement. “Is Stark around?”  Not giving Bruce a chance to reply, the man in question snatched up the bag of chips before changing his direction to the new voice.

“Haven’t seen much of you since you made that move down to the West Coast,” Tony smirked, planting his feet firmly in front of Rhodes to look him up and down as if it had been years rather than months. “The division over there as good as ours, War Machine?”

Ignoring the remark, Rhodes stuck to his original plan of action. “Tony, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Yeah, didn’t think it would be," he shot back cockily, blowing off the question completely. “Come here, I’ve gotta show you something." Glancing back to be sure that Bruce was otherwise distracted, Tony directed his old friend by the shoulder to a more secluded section of the room.

"Listen, Tony, I—" he began again, a small silver circle topped by a very unique looking diamond suddenly putting Rhodes at a loss for words.

Tony’s eyes inspected the jewel with the same bewildered expression that he had displayed when first seeing it. "Crazy, right?"

"Insane..." his friend agreed, voice trailing off in pure, unadulterated shock.

"I wanted my best man to be the first one I told," he explained, wrapping his arm around the man in a hearty half hug. “Well, I mean besides Jarv—"

"Where the hell is all this coming from?" Rhodes interrupted, neglecting to return the hug, nor the enthusiasm.

Gripping the very shoulder he had so many times while having similarly impactful conversations in the past, Tony’s smile fell. "Rhodie, I looked the Grim Reaper in the face last summer. I could practically smell the embalming fluids on his breath,” he reasoned seriously, eye contact not faltering once. “Then again, that could have just been the whiskey on mine," he admitted with a much more lighthearted shrug, reaching his free hand into the bag of lays. The continents primarily small broken pieces at this point, his hand fumbled aimlessly feeling for something worth grabbing.

Stepping back out of the hold, Rhodes' expression contorted into what could only be described as annoyance. "I swear to God, Tony, one day you're kidnapped by terrorists and the next your pacemaker is poisoning you," his friend pointed out curtly, snatching the chips put of Tony's hands and putting an end to the rustling.

"Arc reactor," he corrected with an unappreciative scowl, sprinkling what little crumbs he had managed to savage onto his tongue.

"Being on the verge of death is nothing new for you," Rhodes justified his harsh argument, eyes subconsciously finding their way back to the shiny jewel.

Tony deadpanned. "But I had never accepted it before." Even in the warm room, Rhodes could make out goose bumps blanketing the surface of his friend's arms, the visual of that reaction alone enough to send a chill up his own spine.

"You're being ridiculous," he accused, tensing to prevent the shiver that yearned to pass through him.

"You saw the news cast!” the billionaire maintained heatedly. "I flew into that portal fully expecting to stay there." Casually, Tony brought both hands to their opposite sides and began hastily rubbing his forearms in a futile attempt to rid them of their terror induced texture.

"So what,” Rhodes looked up and away from both the jewel and the man holding it, averting his eyes to an uninhabited corner of the room. "You're going to turn your life around because of it?  Give up all the sex, drinking, and partying?" A sarcastic chuckle escaped his lips, the back of his hand rising to wipe the nervous beads of sweat threatening to trickle down his forehead.

Arms flying up defensively in front of his chest, Tony sneered. "Now I didn't say that," he corrected, not wanting his message to be misconstrued into something it wasn't.  He wanted to up his life's quality, _not_ the other way around.

"Then what are you saying?" Rhodes asked exasperatedly, having grown tired of trying to piece it together on his own.

"I love her Jim," Tony stated simply, unable to explain it, even to himself, in any other way.  When it came down to it, Pepper was the only constant that he had in his life.

"I've known you for years," Rhodes bitter tone almost sounded regretful. "And I never once thought you'd want to settle down." Bringing his left hand to rub his temples, the ex-marine winced when the throbbing ceased to soothe.  The sudden change in mind set didn’t exactly make what he had come to discuss any easier a topic.

"And that's exactly why I have to do it." Lips pursing inwardly, his palms clasped together in an attention grabbing clap, "I'm gonna ask her tonight," Tony concluded, forcing a smile onto his face to try and get pumped about the life altering event that scared him more shitless than any enemy he had ever faced. Sticking with one woman for the rest of your life? More importantly, sleeping only with that one woman? Pepper was gorgeous, sure, but the thought of permanently losing the variety made him cringe.

"You should really think about thi—" Before the suggestion could be completed, an all too familiar chorus began blaring from his friend’s pocket, one the two had goofed off to the tune of many times even before Iron Man’s creation.

“ _I’m on the highway to hell! I’m on the hi—“_

Unsheathing the cell from his denim jeans, Tony smirked at the photo ID lighting up the screen. Sliding his thumb across it to answer the call, he left no room for greetings. "Fly on up, Birdy, the window's open!" he instructed, grin shifting to a much more legitimate one. Assuming Barton was being accompanied by that spider of his that just left the star spangled man with a plan.

Constant butting heads had left the two off on not the best of terms, but if nothing else, watching the old timer make a bumbling, ignorant idiot of himself would make his invite worth the 45 cents it cost to mail the man who refused to learn how to set up a Gmail account. "Good talk!" he assured his best male friend with a solid pat on the back before returning to Bruce, leaving Rhodes only to gawk at how little his ‘talk’ had actually achieved.

 

 ------------------------------

 

"What the hell does S.H.I.E.L.D. need with Stark Tower?" Clint asked incredulously, one arm around Natasha and the other being used to make various, unnecessary gestures as he spoke.  He was normally not the type to get worked up over business matters, but having worked there longer than any others in the room, he knew S.H.I.E.L.D inside and out.  More space was the last thing that the organization needed, which could only lead him to the conclusion that there was some new project he wasn't being let on about.

"Fury didn't bother me with specifics," Tony shrugged, more amused by the man's obvious jealousy that he had more information on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s latest shenanigans than he did, feeding himself already for when he had been concerned with what was going on behind the scenes. "If I had to guess, it's pro—" Stopping mid-explanation, Tony, mouth still gawking from his previously vocal course of action, turned to the opening elevator doors.

"Hello," a tall and muscular blond offered hesitantly.  He had been personally invited to the event, but still he sensed that his showing up was less than a priority amongst those he came to see.  Out of the entire team, the notoriously hermited Bruce included, Steve had always felt the most out of place.  He hadn’t ever felt the strong brother (or in Natasha’s case, sister)-like bond that he had, had with his old team—not that he expected anybody to every fill the shoes of the Howling Commandos.  Now, as the room grew silent due to his presence, the out of place feeling returned at full force. "If you all are having a private conversation, we can come back later..." 

_We?_ Switching his glance down, Tony finally noticed the woman being referred to. A short, pale-skinned woman with hair a few shades darker than the man her arm interlocked with.  She was attractive, he concluded, though when compared to his own woman—Tony's eyes averted back to a rising Pepper Potts—she wasn't all that impressive.

"Don't be ridiculous Steve," Pepper smiled warmly, reaching out to grasp the super soldier's hand with her own." And who's this?" she furthered, expression still welcoming though her eyebrows furrowed questioningly at Steve's assumed date.   Based off of his RSVP, Pepper had been under the impression that the man would be joining them solo.

"Sorry for the intrusion," the only unfamiliar face in the room offered, her own arm extending towards the woman Steve had described as Tony Stark's 'girlfriend', a spectacle she had to see to believe.  She had never met the Iron Man personally, but the man's reputation was far from private. "I'm Sharon Carter," she continued, her velvet-like voice one to rival even Natasha's, "I've heard so many great stories about Steve's friends, I had to meet them all for myself."

Rolling his eyes at the accusation, the tower's owner grimaced, " _Friend_?" he choked out, not trying in the least to disguise his chagrin.  His enhanced hearing picking up the subtle scoff better than the rest, Steve shuffled uncomfortably. It had to have been somewhere around six months since the Asgardians used the tesseract to return home, the last time the Captain had seen or heard from (aside from his invitation to this particular event) any of his fellow Avengers, and still Tony’s negative feelings towards him seemed to weigh just as heavy as before. 

"It's no intrusion at all," Pepper assured, the prior impolite comment slipping just under her radar. From the couch nearest to those standing, Clint’s famed sharp-seeing eyes began examining the unexpected guest, his serious expression taking a break to host a friendlier one.

"Well, if it isn't Agent 13," he let his smile hang lopsided as he greeted her alias. A grin of her own emphasizing her already pronounced cheekbones.  

"So the hawk does leave the nest for more than just business," she acknowledged joshingly, returning the detailed inspection. Five years and the man hadn’t changed one bit, for all she could see with him clothed at least. A more _thorough_ examination could easily help her to decipher if time had made any alterations, but given current relationship statuses, that didn’t appear to be an option. Still though, thinking back to the intimate contact made her body pulse.  

"It's been a long time, Sharon," Clint acknowledged nostalgically, his current lover’s grip on him tightening as she recognized the glazed over look that the female was displaying. 

Her boyfriend’s weight shift snapping her back to the present, Sharon tried her best to regain footing in the conversation. "That's the down side to undercover work," she shrugged nonchalantly, keeping her eyes forward and out of the dangerous path of Natasha’s glare.

"Is there really even an upside?" he played back, his intentions for it to be a rhetorical question. 

"Not in all cases I suppose,” leaning in so that her weight rested primarily against the brawny man to her side, Sharon looked up lovingly at him. "But it worked out pretty well for me."

"She really does make a charming waitress!" Steve chimed, a soft blush painting his cheeks in response to the inconsiderable PDA as he hinted back to the covert mission where they had first been introduced. The way Sharon's lips curled as she shook her head softly made it clear that she had picked up on the silver lining of his statement. It was a conversation she had thought to be finished weeks ago, but still the man would make occasional hints. Her line of work was dangerous, she understood this, but there was no way in hell she'd give it up just to sooth her boyfriend's worries.

Pepper returning to her seated spot in-between Rhodes and Tony, the new pair followed her example by taking the empty couch across from them and to the right of the remaining couple.

"It's a pleasure to see you as well, Agent Romanova," Sharon continued, the pleasant smile she wore as she spoke a lie in itself. The few times she had come across the infamous Widow hadn't exactly been ones to write home about.  Earning a subtle nod from the woman who didn't even recognize the agent, not that Natasha would lose any sleep over her lack of recognition, why would she associate with such low level agent anyway?

Turning over to her left, Sharron nudged at her man’s chin to prop it upwards, grinning inches from his lips as they assembled on a couch. “It’s a bit chilly in here, don’t you think, Steve?” the woman chortled in her own words, slipping her finger down the edge of his jaw as it glazed over his neck, hooking at the collar of his shirt. Practically every female in the room had a man to hold onto, only making her sudden impulses stronger; it wasn’t like she was particularly supplied with a constant feedback of cuddling or coos herself. Just what kind of _man_ would _Captain America_ be then?

 No, it wasn’t that; he didn’t try to prove to be masculine by not acting out much in physical displays of affection—especially in public—he just wasn’t attuned to the impression of it, and over his time, he had found a moreover profound definition of what’s proper in a relationship. “Really? I think it feels pretty nice in here," he uttered his own opinion, out of place it would seem by the less than amused expression that curled on Sharron’s face. Of course, they’ve already had this discussion, and Steve by now figuring out what he needed to do. Feeling a bit ashamed from his neglect, he averted his sight before returning the eye contact, blinking as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders to pull her closer. That was good, right? “Better?” A concerned smile perked.

Having quickly grown bored with the senseless small talk, the tower’s owner switched his gaze to the un-entertainingly happy couple, a wicked idea formulating, "So..." Tony leaned in to speak the word slowly, not because he felt it necessary to be cautious with asking what he was about to, but to add suspense rather.  Putting all catching up to a temporary halt, the faces surrounding turned to look at the loud man inquisitively, "Did it freeze off?" he questioned simply, signature smirk in place.

His eye contact alerting her that she was indeed the one to who the inquiry was directed caused Sharon's expression to furrow into one of bewilderment, "Excuse me?" she finally managed when mannerisms alone didn't seem to be enough for the man to take a hint from.  Rolling his eyes and sighing exasperatedly, Tony's glare turned condescending.

"His cock," he explained bluntly if not a bit patronizingly.  Honestly, did he half to hold hands with these people and walk them through everything?

Eyelids disappearing into his head, the previously perky Steve's face darkened a shade a second. "Stark!" he exclaimed through a shocked choke, hands shooting instinctively to cover his date's ears.

Turning the corner, pants prototype in hand, the previously hermit-ed man surprised the crowd by giving his ten cents. "I'm actually pretty curious myself..." Bruce admitted in the business-casual tone of voice that only a scientist could in regards to such a topic, primary focus still on the object being clutched.

"That is so inappropriate!" the red faced Captain interjected in the form of a whisper-shout, hands still firmly clasped over the woman at his sides ears.

After the initial shock of being man handle wore off, Sharon hastily jerked out of his grip, shooting him a displeased narrowing of the eyes. She was a highly trained field agent, not a child, and she could most certainly handle hearing about her boyfriend's dick. Unsure of what he did to offend her, seeing as he had only been trying to shield her from the risky language, Steve's expression switched to one of innocent confusion.

"It totally did, didn't it?" Clint contended when neither in the pair defended otherwise, sly smile spreading across his face. Why else would the agent look so bitter after being faced with the question? The red head nestled under his arm raised a brow at the less than adult wording, though after considering the immaturity of the conversation in general, she concluded it to be fitting.

"That question doesn't deserve an answer," Steve stated firmly, purposely avoiding eye contact with all those staring expectantly.

"We're all friend's here," Natasha shrugged, suddenly a tad curious herself. "We won't judge."

A hand arose. "I'll judge," Tony admitted, not that anybody really expected him not to.

"What's the verdict, Agent Carter?" Clint interrogated, earning nothing more than a scoff from the blonde.

"Did the Capsicle lose his stick, or what?" Tony finally blurted when then room's silence began to overwhelm him. He didn't organize (or have Pepper organize, rather) this whole reunion shebang just to sit quietly and breathe in each other's used air.

All eyes on him unsettling even for an ex-performer, Steve's foot tapped antsily. "Just ignore them, Peggy," he suggested firmly. The chivalrous man found it to be in no way accepta—wait, did he say _Peggy_? At that Steve tensed, silently praying that he had misheard himself.

" _Peggy?"_ Stark repeated as if to confirm the Captain's worries, memories of conversation's past creeping their way back to the forefront of his mind, "My old man used to work with a woman named Peggy Cart—" Mid-sentence, the connection between the two registered. He had seen some pretty impressive family resemblances in his life time, but _damn_ , this Carter woman looked just like the older one in his dad's pictures, minus the forties styling of course, "Way to go Cap!" He congratulated as if the hero had conquered some great feat, "Keep'en it in the family!" If his father's stories stood true, then that meant Steve had, had a little fling with this 'Peggy' character, his current date’s apparent relative, “I saw you on TV, by the way," he added after piecing even more of the puzzle together. This clone of his father’s colleague had been the ‘waitress’ interviewed after the invasion. “Wasn’t your best angle.”

Teeth grinding, the young Carter woman abruptly rose to her feet. "You want to know the truth?" she inquired harshly, fueled by both the embarrassment of once again being referred to by her grandmother's name, and the general sexual frustration. "I have no fucking idea what _is_ or _is not_ in his pants!" she spat sharply, fists clenched and knuckles white.

"Sharon!" her boyfriend exclaimed, shocked to hear such private matters being broadcasted from his date's mouth.

Her grimace didn't lift. "We've been dating for _four months_ Steve," Sharon looked him seriously in the eyes as she drawled out the time frame, "and you haven't tried anything!"

"Gay." Clint chimed in the form of a fake cough, receiving an eye roll from the red head.

“We have done... things," the bashful man’s voice level was low as he defended himself.

“Occasionally kissing with your hands _here_ ,” Sharon brought her palms to her touch the tops of her shoulders, “Hasn’t qualified since high school.”

"What's the rush?" Steve asked honestly, face contorting into a doe eyed expression.  Catching him off guard, his date's hands shot up towards his neck.

She stared at him unbelievably. "This lack of sexual stimulation is turning me into a shrew!" Sharon stressed her point by gripping and yanking at his collar. The hostile act wasn't exactly uncharacteristic of the agent considering her line of work, but still the surprised man in her hold gulped.

Eyebrows furrowed, a grimace became prominent on Tony’s face, " _What's the rush?"_ Tony repeated almost unintelligibly to himself.  He had heard of the four _date_ rule (one he had always succeeded at coaxing his dates out of following), but four _months_?  That was just unacceptable, "Cap...” he started hesitantly.  Tony had no trouble talking openly about sex, but when it came to more chaste matters, that was when he felt outside of his comfort zone, “Are you a _virgin_?" he questioned incredulously.  It wasn’t like he expected the old fashioned chap to be getting around town or anything, but to have never even been _in_ town?  The experienced man cringed at the very thought.

Equally caught off guard by the possibility, Clint’s arm around Natasha tightened, “Please tell me Stark’s wrong about this one,” he almost pleaded, the idea of going over 92 years without the pleasure of a woman’s body sending a shiver down his spine.

"You all act like there is something wrong with that," Steve observed innocently, relaxing a bit when Sharon’s hold on his collar was released, even if it was only so the woman could cross her arms in a tantrum like manner.

"There is something wrong when the most action that a woman in an adult relationship can get is from reading 50 Shades of Grey," she scolded, still grinding her teeth. At this rate, the majority of the others present found it amazing that the woman had any teeth at all, all but Pepper and Rhodes who seemed to be far too engrossed with their own conversation to follow this one.

"You read that trash?” Tony scoffed, smirking at Pepper jokingly. He had given her the same spiel when he had caught her reading it on the balcony.  Her giggling immediately after his remark, the man’s smirk was replaced with a light, genuine smile.

“I can’t believe that you would say that with so many people around!” Pepper’s playful, hushed voice reaching Tony, he turned to retaliate.

“Well, I—“ As soon as he began, he stopped, smile downgrading to a grimace at the realization that Pepper’s comment had been directed towards his friend, and thus, so was the giggling.  Blowing off the blow off, Tony reentered the more public dialogue. “And yes, Captain Purity, there is most definitely something wrong with that.”

"Is that what this is about?” Sharon offered eagerly, “You won’t touch me because you want to be _pure_?”  The way she spat the last word, as if it were the most revolting term that her ears had ever bared witness to, made Steve cringe.

“That is part of it I suppose," he tried.  It was the truth; he honestly did want to treat making love as a more delicate subject than most people seemed to. It just felt like the right way to go about things. That, and the fact that since he had grown up without a father, Steve had never been properly advised about the subject, meaning that the only knowledge he really had about it was from his guy friends, mainly Bucky. This Knowledge he could pretty much separate into three very basic, very general categories: stick it in, it feels great, and third and most important, _don’t_ get her pregnant. This wasn’t very much to go off of, and Steve simply wasn’t the type to go into war without a battle plan.

Banging her fist abruptly against the mahogany in front of them, Sharon’s scowl made it clear that Steve’s admission hadn’t exactly helped his case, "Right now, you could throw me on this table, strip me down and shag me in front of _everyone_ and you would still be the purest man in the Continental United States!" she argued, and based on the way she was eyeing up and down said table, she seemed to actually be considering it.  Cheeks on fire and eyes alarmed, unsure of how to respond to her suggestion, the Captain simply shook his head no.

“You are in the presence of _Tony Stark_ , world renowned playboy,” she reasoned. “You think he hasn’t propped and porked his fair share of sluts on coffee tables just likes this?”  Afraid to further stir her, Steve decided against asking what she meant by ‘propped and porked’, and simply opted to keep his mouth shut.

Not seeing it right to protest the fact Sharon had publicized, but also not wanting to upset Pepper with the mention of his past activities (not to say that she herself hadn’t enjoyed a few rounds on the very table top being discussed now), the playboy glanced over to see if the comment had upset her.

“Oh, God!” The strawberry blonde laughed, her light tone not exactly what he had been expecting from her. “Not that story again, Rhodie!”  She let her weight fall against Rhodes’s chest, an action that he welcomed with ease. Had she honestly not heard the Agents loud declaration? By the looks of it, even if she had heard, it wouldn’t have bothered her. Tony was definitely not the jealous type, he possessed far too much confidence for that nonsense after all, but the giggling pair’s behavior wasn’t exactly giving him a warm fuzzy feeling.

“Yep.  Tons of sluts,” Tony proclaimed loudly in a childish attempt to end the closeness occurring to the right of him. Only permitting him an eye roll in acknowledgment, his longtime employ and reason for the shiny ring in his pocket turned back to her previous conversation. Meanwhile, using one swift movement of her right arm, Sharon cleared the coffee table of all loose paper and trinkets.

“Pants off,”  she commanded the Captain, the harsh brutality in her voice having the interesting effect of either turning on or frightening every listening body in the vicinity.

A sigh escaped a pair of full lips. “At least go to another level of the building so we don’t have to watch.” Natasha spat, averting her eyes to an opposing wall.

“But then how will we know if Steve’s little Cap survived the Arctic?” Clint inquired seriously, crouched forward with his elbow rested against his upper leg; fist balled to comfortably rest his chin. Weary of the archer’s stare directed under his belt, the most red-faced human being to ever step foot into Stark Tower crossed his legs.

“Look at the time...” Steve’s strained voice managed as he searched the large room for some form of a clock. The invitation had offered a room to bunk in for the night, but if things were going to keep on their current course, he didn’t think that even the super serum could save him from the negative side effects that accompanied the high blood pressure this gathering was resulting in.

“I second Steve’s awkward attempt at calling it a night!” Natasha agreed with more enthusiasm than she had expressed throughout the entire evening.

“And make Captain Virginity miss out on such quality mahogany?” Tony asked the redhead dubiously, knocking his fist briskly against the surface. “It’s far too sturdy a fucking surface to let a friend pass up!” the table’s owner persisted in a way that made it unclear whether he was being sarcastic or not, “I mean _fucking_ the verb, not the adjective,” he corrected upon realizing his words could be mistaken to the less _creative_ in the room. “Though I suppose that the statement stands true either way," he finished, more to himself than the ears listening.

“Jesus, Tony,” Pepper finally verbally acknowledged him, “Is it really necessary for you to be such a pervert?  Just give it a fucking rest.” she grimaced, eyes narrowed angrily at her surprised boyfriend. “And I mean _fucking_ the adjective." Pepper finished sharply. Unsure of where the bitterness was stemming from, Stark could only furrow his eyebrows. It wasn’t often that the witty man was at a loss for words, but then again it wasn’t often that a professional woman employed by a government agency commanded sex in front of her coworkers. Tonight was just full of distasteful surprises.

Sharon’s hands yanking at the trim of her own skirt, Steve quickly gripped his palms over hers to immobilize them. “What if I let you call me Peggy?” she tried pathetically in one final desperate attempt.  It was despicable and disturbed, she knew this, but for her over the course of the past four months, the phrase ‘blue walls’ had taken on a new meaning, and she wasn’t sure that her ovaries could stand it any longer.

“Freak.” Natasha breathed, pulling an intently-viewing Clint off the couch by his collar and heading immediately towards the elevator.

“We’re leaving,” Steve commanded sternly, perturbed that she would even degrade herself to something so scummy. When Sharon refused to stand from the table without first receiving what she cleared it for, her boyfriend simply lifted her, gently throwing her over his shoulder and following Natasha’s lead.

“Hold that,” Bruce instructed those piling into the elevator. Using the sudden departure to his advantage, he hopped a ride down a floor and back to the lab. Not that seeing the team hadn’t been... interesting... he just preferred using his time more productively, _‘The world’s illnesses aren’t going to cure themselves after all,'_ he thought in a pointless charade to convince himself that he wasn’t just eager to try on Tony’s gift. _'Purple and green..._ he considered, as if he ever wanted to merge back to that state, mentally pairing the vibrant fabric with his more assertive side’s skin tone, _'What an interesting color combination,’_ Bruce concluded, intrigued.

“But the party was just getting started!” Tony shouted after, neck arched slightly towards them, but body otherwise remaining straightforward. "We were just about to do body shots!” he joked as the elevator door slammed shut. Puffing out his cheeks before sighing exasperatedly, Tony shuffled in his seat, the unexpected poke of a diamond causing him to both jump up from the pinch and remember his original plan, “Hey Pepper,” he began nervously, putting all previous bickering aside to pave the way for more important matters. "Want to, I don’t know,” he continued, stretching out his limbs in an utmost antsy fashion. “Talk to me on the balcony for a second?” Palms sweating, he reached into his back pocket, gripping the ring tightly to remind himself why he was doing this. The action wasn’t as reassuring as he had hoped, but the diamond’s sharp edge digging painfully into his palm did do a pretty decent job at distracting him from his nerves.

“You go ahead,” Pepper shooed him off with a flick of her hand, “I want to stay and talk to Jim,” she informed, eyes not once leaving Rhodes’s face. His glance on the other hand, redirected apologetically at Tony.

“It’ll only take a second,” the nervous man pressed, at this point just wanting to get the whole proposal thing over with so they could move onto the holy matrimony, happily ever after jazz. “I just need for you to—"

“I know that you _think_ that it does,” Pepper interrupted, frustratedly turning to face the nervous wreck of a man, “but the world doesn’t revolve around you, Tony," she reminded coldly.


	2. Avengers Reassemble

Two Years Later… 

Trekking down the puddled streets of Frankfort, the clicks of high heels stepped their way down paths, eventually leading to a small bridge with a sobbing child poking her chin over the edge. Gazing at the water, the young girl sniffled and readjusted her grip on the harsh cement boarder as her mother paced about, ignoring her while chatting on the phone. Approaching the young girl who was too distracted to note her arrival, the lady kneeled at her side while adjusting the skirt of her dress. She peered over the side with the child, finally catching her attention as she backed up some.

"Dropped something?" the stranger frowned a bit theatrically, yet sincerely, gaining a protruding lip and dramatic nod when she returned the eye contact.

Pointing at the fading ripples with her tiny fingers, she replied, "I lost Miranda." She blinked, retracting her arm back to wipe away a tear, still wearing the infamous pout. "She's my doll, she's four. I got her for my birthday."

Sighing, the woman she confided to shook her head. "Four? Wow, I'm really sorry to hear that, in fact, when I was about your age, I dropped my favourite stuffed animal at this very bridge, Teddy the Bear. I was really upset, but," The child's eyes widened a bit as a smile grew on the older's lips, raising a finger. "I quickly learned that Elizabeth was going to love and take care of Teddy just like I did." A comforted expression meant to reassure the other rested on her face.

The younger grew confused. "Who's Elizabeth?" she muttered through her sleeve that she sheepishly grazed at her bottom lip.

"One of the mermaids down there!" she chimed in a hushed tone.

"Mermaids?" Her sleeve fell to her side as she silently whispered in an exasperated tone.

Head tilting to the side, the deep brown eyes that were lightly dashed with make-up gawked right into hers, a little over the top, but with good intention. "You didn't know? Well, it isa secret... Can you keep it?" As the other bobbed her head to her question, she poked her finger at the slightly spit-moistened sleeve before pointing out. "Look, there's one now!"

"Wow!" the girl shouted as her eyes were glued to the large splash of an apparent mermaid jumping like a dolphin in and out of the water that she spied. Her volume grabbed the attention of her mother who in immediate response hung up and clutched one of her daughters flailing arms. At first alarmed, the girl inhaled sharply before grinning widely. "Momma, did you see that?"

Jolting at her arm before shooting a scornful look at the unknown other, the mother tugged her daughter away before reconnecting to her line, the girl still going off about the beautiful creature; that at the least left her in a happy state as she regained her composer, patting her dress gently as she realigned the strap of her purse that laid from hip to shoulder like a sash. Catching her final glance at  
the girl still pointing to the water with her free hand, completely relieved from all prior stress, she began to turn around.

Clap, clap. "Mermaids, huh?" a deep voice sounded out, his tone sounded a man of his word, one that wouldn't just be messing with a stranger by boldly sounding out the additional outlandish words, "You're not the only one out there," It was his deep, almost kindly sounding Morgan Freeman-styled voice that lured the lady to whirling around that much faster, though it also stood as serious as he let his consonants out as crisp. "Granted, you're probably the only one promoting water pollution." Gesturing his forehead to the distance, both eyed as the little girl dug with her free hand into her mother's purse while distracted, tossing mints into the water before they officially stepped off the bridge.

Although the female smirked kindly to herself, amused, the other remained mildly serious. "Using your powers to stop babies from crying is... sweet. But you were meant for a lot more than this, Dunn." he added, the other turning back to him in shock. He possessed the nature of a man that some may presume was wearing a bulletproof vest under his attire, pretending that to the least was common.

She took a small, defensive step back, prepared to focus her mind; that sort of phrase wasn't something she could just turn off. Tightening a newly formed grip on the strand of her purse, reaching into it as if gripping the nonexistent pepper spray she moreover wouldn't use if she had it. "How did you know my last name? And, powe—"

"Our database covers a lot." he stated simply, as if it were common knowledge, a slight burden requiring patience to have to explain it. "Unfortunately, it does not cover my time." A rising of his eyebrows lead to a relaxation of his shoulders as he continued. "I can see you've apparently faced enough super-power applicable threats in your day." He added in a smoothly sarcastic manner, eyebrows still at their peek.

His words only placed her gawking at a tall dark man, his long leather coat not doing much justice in distinguishing him from the night sky. Behind the bulky, yet smooth coat was more of the colour black—the man certainly had a monochrome style going for him, a questionable eye patch of the similar coal shade covering his left eye to top off the skept-o-meter. 'Database?' she wondered, yet quicker to defend herself before questioning. "She was upset and her mother didn’t even care."

He readjusted his weight, shifting merely as he lowered only one eyebrow to its normal position. "Apparently she did, seeing as she swiped her child away from the stranger who was working her daughter up." his voice retorted back in a matter-of-fact tone. 

"Somehow, you don't seem one to be phased by stranger danger." She bounced back, faintly grimacing at his judgment while poking at his own. "Regardless, I did nothing wrong, I just wanted to help. I do wish her mom wasn't so quick to judge, though." She tucked her thin brunette hair behind her ear and nodded promptly.

Although he was taller than her, the way he carried himself intimidatingly was as if he was looking up at the lady, the bright white of his right eye highlighting the deepness of his profound beetle-brown eye tone that were seemingly glued to hers. "That's the way it is in the business. Earn a friend, make an enemy, but you don't seem too phased by it." Lifting his chin up gesturing to her, his voice was clear as day, perking lightly to the words, "You may be just the one for the job."

"Oh, man." she sighed, snapping her fingers. "I have to say, I was really looking forward to taking the week off of my apparently figured out social life." Her expression grew gentle as she felt a little better with nicely teasing with the other, a smile almost appearing on her face when she reminded herself how he couldn't be bluffing if he stuck around this long.

"We've got a saying around here." He nodded, his voice mirroring her comfort, though maintained the serious fluxation he maintained in every statement he said. "Saving the world is a full-time job."

The blonde attempted to express a dumbfounded look with success—it worked better than the threatening appearance. 'Maybe it would be easier if you didn't look as if you could pull a knife out of that creepy coat.'she thought towards him. "Saving the world? Just who do you think you are?" She reached into her jean pocket for her deck of cards in defense to her racing mind.

"Stand down." He avoided her question, gesturing his eyes towards the denim like he knew what she was aiming for. "You seem like an intelligible young lady, so I'm sure you'll understand when I ask you to cooperate, just listen first." His arms adjusted slightly as they remained folded behind his back, still looking up at her, however that was possible. She swallowed back, rolling her own shoulders while standing as tall as she could with her hands at her sides. "Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D." he replied to her positive approach on his insistence.

"Some kind of anti-terrorist organization?" she asked, a bit confused as she scanned her sight all about, curious if she could find a taxi nearby waiting for him or something. The guy looked strange, daunting even, too grim to not regard as a risk for safety purposes. Perhaps if they weren't currently in a city like this, someone would have thought it strange by now, she supposed, but there were all sorts here. Whether a person were suited up or wearing a bikini, this was the area of the sort of judgment she never understood, but didn't have to, as long as everything worked out.

"Something like that." He uttered, almost amused. "That's just one part of our initiative. The rest is top secret."

After spying a stand-alone helicopter perched on the rooftop of one of many tall buildings, she noted its black colour matching the man's own vivid colour scheme, and also how it was marked with an eagle entrapped in a circle with the abbreviated prior term he stated. "You're top secret and you flaunt your symbol on a copter—one of the moreover noisiest transporters—as your casual get-around?" She  
took her turn of raising an eyebrow.

The strange man's subtle judgment seemed to vanish as she proved to be both observant and true; Director Fury shrugged with his off look. "You'd be surprised how rarely anybody looks up. As I was saying, there was an idea to bring together a group of remarkable people, so when we needed them, they could fight the battles that we as individual never could—"

"Listen, as stunning of a story as this is coming out to be," she interrupted, then held up a finger. "And I am intrigued, I think I just ought to ollie out of here, so I'll just be on my—"

"Cute trick, Wood," the darker man stepped in front of the direction she stepped towards, still keeping his distance, though the act alone assured her he understood her power and it's restrictions, causing her eyes to widen and come to an immediate halt, cutting off her concentration of its kilter. "But did you really think we wouldn't see this coming? Remember that listening thing?"

Giving in, she tossed her hands in the air before crossing her arms across her chest after adjusting her hair out of her lightly freckled face. "Well pardon me for wanting to exit peacefully on the invitation from the man who sketchily wears not only a trench coat, but eye patch simultaneously." She scanned her eyes up and down his get-up. "You dress up for me, Adonis?"

"Beauty is trust, and trust is beauty. That's all most on this Earth know and all most think they need to know."

"Is that part of some recognition code trick of your little company?" the paler questioned, smiling snidely.

"No," he answered the inquiry dumbly, as if he felt the sarcastically stupid question deserved an unintelligible response. "I just felt like saying it. And little?" Releasing a light 'tch' noise, Fury allowed himself a hint of a smile. "That's the understatement of the year, sweetheart."

This man no longer seemed like a direct danger to the smaller, her having dealt with all sorts of individuals from the illuminated city they found themselves in now. Deciding to work with the man's words, the lady figured she didn't have much to lose and to go by the mentality of the place–the highlight of the lifestyle: bring your life-savings, double it on a lucky roll, and lose it all from a flush. Except, she wouldn't lose, she told herself, just take the risk. "You must carry all that charm in your eyepatch. I bet that all the ladies appreciate your wisdom."

"I thought I left that in my other patch.” One corner of his lips rose, “And it depends on if you’re talking to one of my ex-wifes or my mother." His smile faded, though he earned a light laughter from the other, as if his warming up had to come in special proportions, job coming first in his mindset's priorities. "As I was saying, I've had my eye on you to join what we call the Avengers Initiative."

Lips pursed inwards, a little excited to have spoken to the first decent man in a while, she took her risk offer back some. It was getting late, and she hadn't slept in a while, an unintentional yawn breaking through reminding her of that. A giggle escaped though towards his singular eye kick. "You know, I'm not too sure if you're even real, of if I'm having some kind of a—"

His face fell flat, as if tired of keeping his going along. "Oh, I am very real. The realest person you'll eve—you know what?" Turning around as he lifted his hand to the air, signaling the helicopter drivers, his coat swayed with his shift. "Come and find out for yourself. Why don't you see what you are really made of? Unless you'd rather prance around..." He glanced disapprovingly over his shoulder over the surrounding buildings to a couple wearing an orange-feathered unitard arm-in-arm with a suited man, then back at her. "Here."

Releasing a heavy sigh, she threw her cares out of her mind along with the image of the strange pairing. "Fine." she let out, hoisting her hands up in a shrug, stepping up to follow him.

"You've just become part of a bigger universe, and you don't even know it yet." A smirk grew at the corner of his lip after letting out half a chuckle. "Almost forgot. After recent incidents and new establishments adapted into our code for," There was a pause, as if he were searching for a better word for what he didn't care to mention, "your safety, I am obligated to inform you that things may get dangerous. Standard precautions or something another..." His words faded to a mumble as the blades of the copter started to whirl in rotation.

"Right, I feel so much better." she muttered, a half-smile settling itself on her expression before rolling her eyes. "But why do I feel like that may be the understatement of the year?"

 

Meanwhile, on the way to Avengers Tower…

Airborne in a private jet established by Tony Stark himself, the man eyes the curves of the flight attendant's uniform as it hugged her body snuggly, grabbing the miniscule glass of alcohol she poured for him. "Thanks, babe," he acknowledged her as his voice reverberated into the glass, the distance between the beverage and his lips vanishing speedily. As she allowed herself to smile and nod back she turned around to return to her station. "Way, rotate again… That's right," he insisted, his eyes examining every detail. Catching onto his pleasure rather fast, the woman began to put a little hip into her steps as she spun her way closer to him.

"Oh please," Natasha uttered, averting her sight to outside the window; it was a rather starry night, granting a much better view than the one Stair Air provided. "Get a room," her last words escaped her mouth moreover as a mutter as she rested her elbow on an armrest, resting her chin on her fist as a chain reaction.

Smirk was immediately plastered on the dark-eyed man. "If the crowd suggests it," tony sighed, hoisting himself up to his feet as he held out an arm for the lady to lock hers with. "Gretchen," he gestured, tapping his arm with his opposite hand.

"Grace," she corrected, though still hooked her arm around his as they stepped off.

His inaccuracy didn't seem to falter him as he twisted back to the small pack over his shoulder as they treaded away to the back. "Try not to miss me too hard."

In his absence, Steve's head collapsed into his palms, not sure if he should stop his friend or not. "How much longer do we have on this plane?" he questioned through his hands, trying to assess the situation.

Subtly wondering the same thing himself, Clint took his eyes off the redhead who sat adjacent to him and stood up to ask the captain of the flight, promptly coming back to provide the captain of the crew with his answer. "Not that much longer," he breathily stated, permitting himself back to his seat as his hand settled on top of the Natasha's free one over their shared armrest. "We've got less than twenty minutes left."

As the blond recollected himself, his ignorance reassuring him that nothing could happen in only twenty minutes, he rubbed his eyes before recollecting proper posture, rolling his shoulders as he scanned over the group. It has been a while since they had seen each other last, and everything—even the feel of the room—had seemed so different. 'Maybe because everyone's tired,' he thought to himself, taking note of the late hour. 'Maybe everyone's trying to think about what's going on—yeah, the mission.'

Bruce typed away on his laptop, creating the only real noise in the area. That was, until a small icon popped up in the corner of his screen, warning him of a certain death of his computer if he did not charge it now. Not feeling a strong desire to search for a cord, already sure that there was some sort of outlet on Stark's creation, he shut his device punctually after saving his files, exhaling promptly when realizing he had to join the uncomfortable silence of the gang.

Catching a glimpse of a small remote, the doctor reached for it and clicked the power button, a screen to his left creating a sandy-like noise as it turned on. "Does anyone mind?" No rejections. "Any requests?" No appeals. Breathing deeply once more, he readjusted himself towards the flat-screen television for slight comfort, flickering around channels to figure out what was what. It was in short time that each of the members of the team too had turned their eyes to the screen. Drowsy, unaware, and bored, all but one of the Avengers were assembled on a jet with these current spirits, having no reconciliation of what they were doing—but when duty calls, they answer.


End file.
